


Bathole

by sarah_x



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2015-08-12
Packaged: 2018-04-14 08:59:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4558611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarah_x/pseuds/sarah_x
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Batman has humiliated Edward again, Dent is sick of hearing shitty pop music and Jonathan is suffering for it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bathole

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous: can you write me literally anything scriddler?? thanks
> 
> Tumblr: twofaces.co.vu/post/126516024047/can-you-write-me-literally-anything-scriddler

_“AND I FIND IT KIND OF FUNNY, I FIND IT KIND OF SAD, THE DREAMS IN WHICH I’M DYING ARE THE BEST I’VE EVER HAD-!!”_

It had been the seventeenth time that week that “Mad World” and other assorted tunes of such a cheery nature had been blared by Edward through the asylum’s old stereo in one of the two rec rooms. The doctors and orderlies had done nothing to stop it, mostly because they enjoyed seeing the patients suffer from the safety of their mostly soundproof offices. 

Jonathan was in the other rec room, thankfully, contemplating how hard he would have to smash his head against one the walls in order to kill himself and whether he’d be able to do it the first time round before the guards threw him in solitary. A stunt like that might mean Edward was revoked his recreational privileges which included access to the sound system so maybe the brain damage that would incur if he attempted such an act would be worth it.

From the other rec room, a commotion started. Enough of a skirmish that even Jacobs, the laziest guard in the asylum, looked up from his National Geographic magazine and took out one headphone. 

_Bang – Bang – Bang – CRASH!_

A well missed silence filled the asylum, if only for a moment, as the inmates breathed a collective sigh of relief. Then an unholy shrieking rose through the asylum walls like a demonic beast clawing its way out of hell. There was another thud and the music was back, earsplittingly loud. 

_“IT’S A VERY, VERY MAD WORLD-!!”_

Emerging from the room came Two-Face, a bruise already purpling over his good eye and hands balled into fists. He marched over to Jonathan with a murderous look on his face. Jonathan had become very familiar with that expression over the past week.

“You better talk to your damn boyfriend, Crane,” Dent seethed, having to scream to be heard over the top of the music. “Before I take his damn head off!” 

“Not my boyfriend!”

“Whatever he is to you,” Dent replied. “I swear to god if I hear one more shitty Gary Jules song he’s going to be very, very dead!”

“Understood.” Jonathan sighed and brushed past him towards the other rec room. He had to cover his ears as he stepped over the threshold, the sound was so deafening.

Jonathan took in the sorry sight of his friend, face down on the rec room’s couch by himself – the whole room had, understandably, cleared. 

He walked calmly over to the stereo and switched it off. Edward shot up on the couch as if he’d just been electrocuted and glared at the other man before sinking back down into the cushions, his voice coming out muffled. “Turn it back on, Jon.” 

After a few moments, he must have taken the lack of sound as Jon’s silent refusal and sat up again. He was trying to conceal the puffy redness in his eyes as he moved to turn the music back on. Jonathan blocked the stereo and pushed him down onto the couch. 

“Turn it back on, Jon!” He demanded.

Jonathan pinched the bridge of his nose and replied, “No, Edward. This is getting ridiculous. How much Gary Jules can one man listen to in a week? It’s not healthy. Now, are you going to tell me what’s wrong or am I going to smash this stereo to pieces and get thrown back in my cell?” 

“Don’t try to psychoanalyze me, Crane,” He replied, grimacing. “I am not one of your little guinea pigs.”

“I’m not,” He said honestly. “As a friend I am asking you to tell me what’s gotten into you. I don’t really care for the answer, but I am willing to indulge you if it keeps you from being murdered by Dent who is probably assembling a lynch mob out there.” 

On the couch, Edward sat up and composed himself. Jonathan dropped down beside him. “Batman,” He replied. “That’s what’s gotten into me.”

Jonathan raised an eyebrow at him and Edward’s face creased in disgust, “Not like that, you vile primitive. He humiliated me. In front of _everyone_.”

Jonathan shrugged, “So? He does that all the time.” 

Edward laughed obnoxiously loud, “Hahaha, Doctor Crane, thank you for that wonderful insight! I’m sure you can relate considering your cell seems to have a revolving door installed in it.” 

He looked like he was about to reach for the stereo again so Jonathan bit back a scathing remark and pressed him on, “What happened?” 

“I was pulling a heist,” He explained. “Nothing too flamboyant-”

“Is that even possible for you?”

“Are you going to continue mocking me or are you going to actually let me speak?”

“Sorry. Continue.” 

“As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupting, I was pulling a heist at the Gotham Metropolitan Museum. A charity gala, not something I would not usually involve myself with, except there was a quiz night planned.”

“Oh, good lord.” 

Edward shot him daggers. “Unlike some of our more… _controlled_ …contemporaries I, as you know, struggle with my compulsion. I just couldn’t stay away.”

Normally Jonathan would be attempting to pick apart his psyche at this point but, ever since they’d become friends a little over a year ago he had been somewhat restrained in his usual methods when it came to the Riddler. It was…troubling, to say the least. 

“The night was going as per usual, boring and slow with a rather lackluster ensemble of socialites completely incapable of answering a few simple questions,” He shook his head in disappointment. “No great loss to society. Not in my eyes, however, the Bat had to disagree. I, being the genius I am, remembered to bring reinforcements with me unbeknownst to him. For a second it seemed we were getting the upper hand and then-”

“Then what?” 

His eyes became fixed on the floor. “I think I would like to listen to my song again, please.”

“Edward,” Jonathan recognized the removed look in his eyes. The signs that he could go catatonic. “It’s…it’s alright.” 

Edward sighed heavily and sunk back into the couch. “And then I called him my father.” He wouldn’t meet Jonathan’s eyes.

“Oh.” 

“Oh,” He said. “I called him my father and Batman wormed his wings into my brain and defeated me. Again. Not to mention some woman threw a bowl full of punch at me. I reeked of fruit juice and cheap vodka the whole night.”

“There are worse things to smell of, I suppose,” Sensing the depressing change in atmosphere, Jonathan tried with what little compassion he had in him to  and reassure his friend. “Be logical, Edward. There is not a single person or plant creature in this entire asylum who hasn’t been humiliated by Batman at some point, even if they vehemently disagree. This is a mere snag in your plans. Not a dead-end, but a softer somewhere. Plus, Batman’s a massive-” Jonathan searched around for a good insult, something harsh or sarcastic. The only thing that came to mind was completely childish, “Bathole.” 

Edward giggled into one of the couch cushions as he repeated Jonathan’s taunt, “ _Bathole?_ ” He replied, the life returning to his eyes. “Oh dear Jonathan, Harley’s influence must really be rubbing off on you. Are you trying to make me feel better?”

“Is it working?” 

“A little,” He admitted. “But I know something that would really make me feel better.” 

He turned towards Jonathan slightly, biting his lip and gazing at him with glittering green eyes. He was familiar with that look, the last time Edward had stared at him like that Edward had kissed him. He’d managed to threaten the younger man into keeping his mouth shut about that.

“Absolutely not,” Jonathan crossed his arms and moved further down the couch to put some distance between them. “I’d rather take a dose of my own toxin.” 

“You wound me, Jonathan, you really do,” Edward’s lazy smile faltered on his face. “Turn my music on and get out.”

Jonathan rolled his eyes. “Alright…okay, if I kiss you do you promise no more Gary Jules?” 

“You have my word.”

“That isn’t much to go on.” 

“Guess you’ll just have to trust me. Wouldn’t that be terrifying?” 

Jonathan didn’t have much confidence in Edward but for some strange reason - perhaps a certain fondness he would never admit to - allowed the younger man to lean in and place a small hand on his knees to steady himself. 

Edward was kissing him. The younger man tasted of strawberries, oddly enough.

The feeling that welled up inside him was exactly what Edward had described – fear. It didn’t feel as bad as it should have, oh no, it felt so good. 

An unpleasant laugh broke out behind them. Jonathan and Edward sprang apart to look at the intruder leaning in the doorway and staring at the pair of them. It was Dent. “Fucking called it. Wait until Quinn gets a load of you two.”


End file.
